Mbawza Ritchie fingered the sides of his chair. His boss, Gmswjambo, was stood with his back to him, gazing out over the Psychotic Symphony Arena, hands clasped behind his back. For such a simpleton, Ritchie mused silently, he sure does a lot of thinking.
Or seems to.
All was not well at Sons of Apollo, despite Season 66 far exceeding expectations. Gmswjambo had somehow blundered his side through the league campaign to a runners-up spot, doing the double over the league winners in the process and securing their place in the playoffs with an oxymoron-esque nailbiting goalless draw on the final day against third-placed Never Back Down FC. Sadly the play-off itself ended in disappointment - a shoot-out defeat at the hands of Perak Bär.
'What are you thinking, boss?' ventured Ritchie.
The manager remained transfixed by the pitch for a moment, before releasing a deep sigh and turning to face his assistant.
'Have you seen the change report?' he hissed.
Naturally, Ritchie had. In fact, he had emailed it to his boss that morning.
'Of course,' he replied. 'A bit of a mixed bag, I suppose.'
'Mixed bag?' Gmswjambo advanced to the desk and laid both palms upon it. 'You sound like that clown Johnson. Don't play politics with me, Ritchie. I am a grumpy, cantankerous, moody mo-fo when it comes to football, my son. And I love football. Don't get me started on politics or, even worse, politicians. You need to call a spade a spade.'
'I'm sorry, boss. I guess I just wanted to say that there were some positives. Look at the young lads, those 22 and under: aside from Motan, who we agreed would be a filler to call on in emergencies only, everyone's gone up a bar.
'No doubles though,' the gaffer growled.
'Yes, but we had a couple last season and the season before that. The DV was really good, +7s and +8s, so even though they've gone up one there's a fair chance of getting a double or two next season. And don't forget that most of these guys, well, six of them except for Hiesteban, Combe, and Motan, are already on the 16/5 skill path.'
'Very well,' grumbled Gmswjambo. 'Castillo retiring was a massive blow though.'
Ritchie's mouth curled downwards. 'It was, indeed. Maybe retirement buffers don't work as much as we've been led to believe.'
Roberto Castillo was signed for a shade under 8M econ in June 2021. Since then, his record for SOA showed 20 games in each of the three seasons, during which he contrinuted nine goals and nine assists from midfield. Curiously his most prolific season was his first, in Division 1a, bagging six goals and assisting twice. A year younger than the other stalwart of midfield, Quentin Collins, his decision to hang up his boots had come as quite a shock.
'You know, Ritchie, what I think when I look at our squad?' Gmswjambo asked, settling into his chair, opening the top drawer and withdrawing a bottle of Glenmorangie and two glasses
'What's that?'
'Where are the inbetweeners?'
The assistant raised is eyebrows and puffed up his cheeks before releasing the air quicky. 'Um, good question, actually. I think one of them's a youtuber now?'
'Eh?' I'm not talking telly, Ritchie, waken up and get this down you,' he poured a generous dram into each glass. 'I'm meaning middle-aged players. We're going to be up to our eyeballs in the brown and smelly if we don't address the muckle age gap in our squad before Castillo sods off to his drink habit, or whatever it is he's retiring to do.'
'Ah, got you, boss.' replied Ritchie. Right enough, he realised, aside from Conkelberry in goal, aged 25, there was nobody between 32-year-old stiker Crãiasa and 22-year-old defender Özat.
'What I'm wondering is,' Gmswjambo went on, 'should we do like last time and try to bag a 30-year-old for under 10M, or push the boat out a bit for somone in their mid-twenties? How many badgers have we got anyway?'
'18.5 big ones when this load of spraff hits the press.'
'Right. Scour the market, Ritchie, I'll be expecting your shortlist on my desk tomorrow morning.'
'But,' Ritchie protested, glancing at his watch. 'I'm on the tee in an hour and I'll be having a scoop or two afterwards. Then it'll be a few frames of snooker and a chippy before the walk of shame... Can't it wait a day or two?'
As staunch a believer in the following of order as Gmswjambo was, his assistant's plight tugged on is heartstrings. This was the kind of dilemma he could relate to.
'No worries, Ritchie, what you've described is what life is all about. Take the rest of today and tomorrow morning to yourself. I'll not be placing any bids before the end of the week anyway.'
'Magic, boss, thank you.'
'And don't forget,' Gmswjambo called out as Ritchie made his break for freedom. The assistant turned warily, wondering what the catch was.
'If you're in need of a bit of hair o' the dog tomorrow,' he smiled, 'I'll be in L'Abri Côtier from noon.'
|